Featherdancing
by R. Naoya
Summary: So Morty finds out that Falkner is ticklish. And when your crush/boyfriend is a flying-type trainer... feathers are quiet easy to get a hold of. Honorshipping fluff.


A/N: Originally wrote this for the Pokemon Kink Meme over on LJ. It's my first time dipping into Honorshipping, so I hope my fail wasn't too bad. I absolutely adore Morty/Falkner, so hopefully I'll dabble in this ship some more in the future. C:

Disclaimer: Pokemon does not belong to me, I make no profit off these characters, etc.

* * *

Falkner's gym was really, really too big.

Well, actually the main gym was a few levels before the main aviary, but the living quarters happened to be on the same _floor_ as the main aviary, and since it was Falkner's day off that was the most likely place that he would be (Plus Morty'd already scoured every square inch of the main gym and hadn't seen feather or beak of the Flying-Type Trainer).

The bag containing the Rage Manjū he'd picked up in Mahogany swayed to and fro against his thigh as he rode the elevator up to the aviary. A few weeks ago Falkner had unceremoniously thrown the card key at him after Morty had waited around in his gym for hours for the man to come down. As a result several of the up-and-coming trainers making their challenge for the first time mistook Morty for the Violet City Gym leader, bullied him relentlessly when he refused to battle, and been utterly decimated when he jokingly sent out his fully evolved Gengar.

Needless to say, Falkner had not been amused.

Amid surprisingly accurate recitations of the Gym Leader's Battle Ethics Code (word for word, actually) and scathing insults that didn't do much to faze Morty's perpetual good nature, Falkner had done a good enough job of both berating him like a petulant child and utterly scarring the new challengers for life when Morty stole a quick peck between lectures and ended up kissing away the brunt of Falkner's irritation.

The challengers usually ended up stammering out a quick apology and promising to come back another day when Falkner wasn't busy.

The quiet _ding! _of the elevator doors opening stirred Morty out of his reminiscing and---

"You're up."

Falkner was knelt in the middle of the floor, a flock of Pidgey pecking at some grain beneath his feet. He dusted off the last few remnants of the golden feed from his fingers, stood, and regarded Morty's approach with a suspicious look.

"I didn't know you were coming over. You should have called."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Forgot." By way of apology he held up the grocery bag containing the main reason for his visit and gave it a little shake. "I got you something from Mahogany."

That seemed to get Falkner's attention; those sharp eyes turned quizzical and, despite himself, he couldn't help leaning forward to peer into the bag curiously. "Mahogany? If it's any more of those Rage Manjū, I still have the ones you got me for Christmas last year. The Pidgey don't like them much--"

"No, nothing like that." Morty quickly cut in and snatched the bag away. "I left your present back at the gym."

"... then why did you bring that?" Falkner's face took on that sort of irritated look that Morty knew all too well. Morty shrugged, coughed, and seemed to take a great interest in the Pidgeys that were now hopping over in search of more food. Grateful for the distraction, he knelt down to have his fingers and scarf pecked experimentally, occasionally taking the opportunity to stroke his nipped fingers over the Pidgey's glossy coats and wing feathers admiringly.

They indulged in the affection for a few moments until Falkner gave a sharp whistle and pointed in the direction of the main atrium. Feathers scattered, gusts of wind blew through the area and scattered the impressive tan and white plumage all around, and then the bird pokemon were flapping their way toward the roost to join the rest of the flock. Falkner sighed, shook his head, and bent to start sweeping the scattered feathers off to the side a bit.

"They're not meant to be babied."

"I wasn't babying them," Morty protested, laughing and plucking up a large, tan feather from the pile. Probably from one of the Pidgey's primary feathers. Even from just the glossy sheen he could tell how well groomed their plumage was. "Just saying hello. Where is everyone? This place is emptier than the Pokemon Tower on Christmas."

Falkner frowned at the bad analogy, swatted Morty on the back of the head, and turned to stride toward what was, presumably, the kitchen area. "Since everyone has the day off, they've gone out shopping. Celadon has that big sale, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Morty chimed, only two steps behind Falkner with the bag still in tow. When they got to the kitchen he wasn't too surprised to see that there was already a teakettle set on the stove, steam issuing forth from around the stopper on its spout. The rest of the kitchen was surprisingly modern; not that he had expected Falkner to live in a cave and light things with flint and some tinder. Given the way in which he tended to dress, though...

"So." The little jump Falkner gave when Morty suddenly wrapped arms about the slighter boy's hips (the bag having been left discreetly under the table for Falkner to find later) and pulled him close was almost as priceless as the scowl on his face when he turned to glare weakly up at the blonde. "We're all alone, huh? That's why you sent the Pidgey away?"

"No, I sent them away because you were babying them," Falkner retorted, but couldn't help giving a little "haaah" sound when Morty purposely leaned over to ghost hot breaths over his ear. "Stop that!"

"But I missed youuu~" Those hands relocated to Falkner's hips and sides to rub up and down lightly, stroking, and--

-- The next thing he knew was pain as the boy let out a rather undignified _yelp_ and flailed a hand up into Morty's face. It wasn't really a punch, but the force behind it was enough that it might as well have been. "Ow, jeez!"

"I told you to stop!" Falkner seemed more out of breath than usual and was now trying adamantly to break free of the grip that Morty had on him. Through the recurring thoughts of _owmyfaceow_ Morty was struck with a sudden realization and his hands drifted down to Falkner's sides once more. Like before he gave a single, but firm stroke up along his hips and across the gentle ridges of his ribcage---

-- and like before he got a yelp, a jerk and an elbow buried in his stomach.

Falkner was trying even more vainly to try to get away, even going so far as to try to pry Morty's hands off of him. But, too amused by this new turn of events, the blonde stubbornly refused to let go and only clasped Falkner tighter around the middle, which proved sort of awkward because Falkner's flailing had managed to turn himself around so that they were now face to face.

_"What?"_ The Violet Gym Leader snapped, irritably, even though there was a bit of pink coloring his cheeks. "You're done now, right?"

"You're ticklish." It came out as more of a question than a statement, but the smug smile on his face was still there all the same. Falkner didn't believe that needed confirmation and merely snorted, head jerking away to hide the embarrassed look on his face.

But Morty wouldn't let that slide by so easily. He pressed their foreheads together with a soft chuckle and gave the other a light, chaste peck on the cheek as though to apologize. Falkner seemed to melt into the kiss -- not like he had a choice when Morty forcefully turned his chin to face him and claimed his lips -- and the anticipatory tension in his body gradually dissipated and then faded away completely.

He was on the table before he knew it, shoulder blades pressed to the dark, cool wood as Morty shoved the folds of his hakama and pressed him hard against the gleaming lacquer surface. Falkner shivered, pressing at Morty's shoulders and then tugging at that ridiculous scarf he insisted on wearing lately. A part of him insisted that they really shouldn't be doing this here, because _this was the table they ate off of_, but he couldn't be bothered to care, not when Morty was kissing the skin of his chest and along his clavicle and worming fingers up his sides again, only his touch this time around was softer, teasing his sides and ribs with something his body felt a lot more sensitively----

The back of Falkner's head hit the table as his body spasmed and he started to laugh/choke/shout at Morty and his feathery assault. Mostly insults, mostly nonsensical renditions of "what are you _doing_" but it was all pretty much moot by this point. Morty regarded the flailing and kicking and squirming with a very, very amused smirk that broke into a wide grin when Falkner started to laugh breathlessly and uncontrollably. "S-stop! Morty-- M-Morty stop!!"

It was later, after Falkner had managed to pry the feather from Morty's grasp and been ravished very thoroughly on the dining room table (which still makes him cringe to this day), that he found the box of Rage Manjū tucked up under the chair. By this point the sun had set and Morty had left for his hometown with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to swing by tomorrow. Flushed red from his earlier laughing fit and the tickle-torture, Falkner had dismissed him brusquely and only allowed him to kiss his cheek before hopping into the elevator, leaving Falkner to clean up the feathers that had been conveniently at Morty's disposal during their rendezvous.

He plucked the box out of the bag, sighed at the label, and shook his head. It was given its spot of honor along with the rest of the Manjū in his room and he made a mental note to have a talk with Morty about spending three hundred pokedollars on the damn things.

And also to double the Pidgey grooming time to keep them from molting their feathers everywhere.


End file.
